


a list of things sakusa kiyoomi hates

by BrenH



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Getting Together, Just sakuatsu being their usual annoying selves, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Mentioned Bokuto Koutarou, Mentioned Hinata Shouyou, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrenH/pseuds/BrenH
Summary: “Just fuckin’ write shit down so ya remember it then.”It was probably supposed to be a joke, just Osamu being as annoying and unhelpful as always, just reminding him that he shouldn’t have bothered trying to count on his brother for help. He’s forgotten about the whole thing until a few days later when he’s shopping and comes across a small, black notebook shaped like a cat, and his brother’s stupid suggestion flashes through his mind. Before he knows it, the cute little notebook is dropped in his basket, purchased, and in his possession.Or, the one where Osamu suggests Atsumu keep a notebook to track all the things Sakusa hates that he does, and he takes it further than he means to.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 29
Kudos: 872
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	a list of things sakusa kiyoomi hates

**Author's Note:**

> this was just a joke between a friend and i and then it accidentally became this monster so marga i hope you're happy with yourself and what you've done to me.

Miya Atsumu can count on one hand the number of things he knows for sure about Sakusa Kiyoomi. One: he’s an incredible ace. Two: his wrists are fucking weird and bendy but apparently it’s fine. Three: He’s a germaphobe and hypochondriac. Four: He’s going to be playing for the same team as Atsumu. And above all else, the most indisputable fact Atsumu knows about the man, five: he’s fucking impossible to deal with. 

The man is neurotic, anal to a fault, unbearably blunt, and he makes Atsumu grit his teeth after just saying hello to him. When he met him back in high school at All-Japan Youth, he’d been fine enough to deal with. Haughty and prickly, but they’d spent most of their time together on the court, which seemed to be the only place he was manageable. Demanding? Absolutely, but Atsumu was nothing if not an incredible setter, and while he wasn’t the goody two-shoes that Kageyama had been, he was willing to acquiesce to _some_ demands. The problem with being on the same team together, is that they won’t only ever be interacting on the court, and it’s imperative that they’re able to get along off of it.

Which they don’t.

It’s not for lack of trying, either. Atsumu knows he can be just as unbearable at times, has been told countless times by his brother just how many people can’t stand him, but this time he makes an effort. Because this isn’t a high school team where at the end of the day it didn’t matter if you stayed friends, this was his _career_ , and frankly the MSBY Black Jackals were lucky to have him, and just as lucky to have Sakusa. He doesn’t want to jeopardize that just because he’s a dick.

The problem comes in the form of Sakusa’s increasingly obscure and particular demands, and how he refuses to acknowledge Atsumu off the court as if he’s anything other than a nuisance. How every attempt he makes is shot down. It’s frustrating, only made more so when Sakusa starts _berating_ him over the stupidest things, like how Atsumu shouldn’t be touching the underside of the benches in the locker room, because any number of unsanitary things could have been wiped there and they’ve probably never cleaned. It’s not like he’s wrong, and the way he phrased it brought a grimace to Atsumu’s face too, but it’s not like it’s criticism warranting him being chewed out in front of the entire team. 

In only a short few weeks, Atsumu has already made numerous calls to his brother to complain, and he knows Osamu’s patience has worn thin as well. He makes the trip one weekend to visit, and spends the first hour in Osamu’s apartment complaining about Sakusa and the never ending list of specific ways interactions _had_ to go or else Atsumu was in deep shit, how he’s never be able to keep up with everything Sakusa seemed to expect from him if he wanted to be treated like an actual person.

“Just fuckin’ write shit down so ya remember it then.”

It was probably supposed to be a joke, just Osamu being as annoying and unhelpful as always, just reminding him that he shouldn’t have bothered trying to count on his brother for help. He didn’t take him seriously then either, just flipped him off and dropped the subject, took his frustrations and channelled them into kicking his ass in Smash Bros. 

He’s forgotten about the whole thing until a few days later he’s shopping and comes across a small, black notebook shaped like a cat. He only even stopped to acknowledge how cute it was, pulling out his phone to send a picture to Shouyou because he thinks he might get a kick out of the grumpy cat face, that it might remind him of Kageyama. He sends the texts, ready to carry on his way when Shouyou responds, “LOL like Tobio or maybe Sakusa-san.”

He barely registers the second text coming through saying, “Bokuto says it looks like Kuroo-san too,” his brother’s stupid suggestion flashing through his mind. Before he knows it, the cute little notebook is dropped in his basket, purchased, and in his possession. 

He leaves it untouched on his desk for another week. Writes it off as another impulse purchase, figures next time he’s over he’ll just give it to Shouyou. 

But then he comes home after practice, frustrated and annoyed, raring to find someone to complain about Sakusa with. He hadn’t even done anything that _bad_ , just accidentally tracked more water from the shower to his locker than he’d meant to, and Sakusa had spent twenty whole minutes chewing him out over it, about how someone could slip and injure themselves severely over such a careless mistake. He considered texting his brother about the whole thing, but had the feeling Osamu would just agree with Sakusa, even if just for the sake of pissing Atsumu off even more. When he spots the abandoned notebook, he doesn’t think twice before grabbing it and a pen, filling the entire first page with a scribbled rant about his rude, hardass of a teammate. It cools him down a little, venting like this, and he groans into his empty apartment in frustration. Cooling down wasn’t what he wanted, what he _wanted_ was to avoid getting into arguments with his teammates for stupid shit. So, he rips out the entire first page, throws it in the trash, and tries again. 

He draws a line down the center of the page, writing at the top _“THINGS SAKUSA KIYOOMI…”_ and then in each column _“HATES”_ and _“LIKES.”_ He figures that at least this way he can keep track of some of the bigger issues Sakusa has, if not the minutia. He thinks for a moment, considers that the minutia is always what gets him in trouble with the detail-oriented prick, and sighs in frustration. He starts with the hates list, figures he’ll avoid volleyball related items because he already knows all those things. His mental list is long, and relatively unhelpful, but when he puts pen to paper the first thing he writes is _“Miya Atsumu.”_

From there it’s easier; Sakusa hates messes, he hates large spaces, he hates when people play coy, hates crowds, hates being touched, hates fan gifts, hates being called Omi. After some thought, he scratches out where he wrote _likes_ , and instead writes “ _tolerates”_ overtop of it. After a few minutes of staring at the blank half of the page, he writes _“Ushiwaka”_ and closes the notebook, snickering to himself.

It becomes something of a ritual after that, where after practice he writes down everything he’d done to piss Sakusa off. His favourite little note is from when Sakusa had snapped at him for _apologizing_ , as if he was some sort of monster for acknowledging he probably should have been more careful when he’d tripped and grabbed onto his teammate’s arm, nearly taking them both down.

Once he starts making a point of paying attention to these things, he realizes it really isn’t that hard to understand Sakusa. Prickly and blunt as he is, he wasn’t as hard to read as Atsumu had thought. Go figure that paying attention to other people’s boundaries makes it easier not to overstep them. It wasn’t like he was entirely unreasonable either. Anyone who had been around Sakusa for more than 5 minutes could tell he’s a germaphobe and a hypochondriac, so that was what Atsumu decided to work on first. He had always been a pretty hygienic guy as it was, but he supposed there was no way for Sakusa to know that without taking a peek into his life when it was obvious he had no interest in doing so. It didn’t really matter that Atsumu thought it was unfair he didn’t get the benefit of the doubt, he just made a point of carrying hand sanitizer with him, using it when he deemed appropriate. Days where Sakusa wasn’t the first to the showers, he’d make a point of warning him which ones had been used already and pointing out the ones that hadn’t been. He’d prompt Bokuto to clean up better after himself, asking him to be more careful when he nearly grabbed Sakusa’s water bottle instead of his own.

If any of his attempts were acknowledged or appreciated outside of the moment, Atsumu couldn’t say, but in the end it didn’t really matter. Not getting chewed out was reward enough.

It’s another month until Atsumu starts adding more to his list of things Sakusa tolerates. He learns he likes umeboshi, and that he seems to appreciate sake. He doesn’t mind going out with the team so long as they pick less crowded venues that he can escape from at a moments notice. He decides to cross out where he wrote _Omi-kun_ on the hates list and moves it to the tolerates, figuring that if Sakusa’s stopped threatening him every time he calls him that, he can’t hate it too much anymore. Or he’d just figured that Bokuto is even more impossible to stop than Atsumu is. He doesn’t move his own name though, is pretty sure that there’s a difference between tolerating him as a person and tolerating the things that he does.

He knows Sakusa doesn’t truly hate him, he would have told him as much if that were the case. He’s making an effort to be better too, to be less of a dick no matter how often he feels that Sakusa is _begging_ for one of his witty retorts. Even if it’s just to tell him he’s not funny, which hurts, by the way. He’d even go so far as to say that after some time and effort, Sakusa maybe even _trusts_ him, slightly, in some very minimal aspects of their lives off the court. He still bristles if Atsumu touches him for too long, but he gets away with far more than some of their other teammates. He’s particularly fond of when they’d won a game, and Atsumu had pulled him into a loose and brief embrace as he cheered, letting him go quickly enough for Sakusa to not have to tell him to let go, and then later watching in the locker room as Bokuto tries to hug him only for him to be held back at arms length and told to fuck off.

Maybe it’s vindictive and mean, but it makes a small part of Atsumu feel special. It wasn’t like Bokuto seemed particularly hurt by it anyway, shrugging and instead barreling into Atsumu where he’d just been changing out of his jersey. 

After that match he makes a separate list, a little further into the notebook so he still has the spare pages to continue his ever expanding list of hates and tolerances. He feels stupidly smug as he writes down the title for _“LIST OF THINGS I’M ALLOWED TO DO.”_ It’s all minor things, hugs lasting less than 3 seconds with no more than 2 points of contact, an arm around his shoulder so long as the rest of Atsumu’s body wasn’t touching him, high fives on the court. After a moment's thought, he flips a few more pages in and writes at the top, _“PROGRESSION LOG.”_ His first entry reading, _“Omi let me hug him very very briefly. Bokkun wasn’t allowed,”_ with the date in brackets next to it.

He continues like this for a while. Slowly adding to his lists, noting any progress he makes with Sakusa as a way to feel out the lines and boundaries in their relationship. He’s not sure they’re friends, but things are progressively more friendly, no matter what the level of bickering and insults say. When they have to stay in a hotel for an out of town game and Coach Foster tells him and Sakusa they’ll be sharing a room together, Atsumu recognizes that particular head tilt and sigh combination as relief. He writes it in the progression log on his way out, only Shouyou stopping him to ask if that’s the notebook he showed him months ago. 

It’s uneventful, getting to the hotel they’ll be staying at. Atsumu considers sitting with Sakusa purely to bother him, but Bokuto and Hinata set up shop in the back and tempt him with food. When they split ways to set up their rooms, he quietly falls into step next to Sakusa, watches him eye the establishment critically, right up until he unlocks and opens the door for them. 

“D’ya shower in the morning or night?” Atsumu asks him, waiting for Sakusa to pick a bed, the one furthest from the door. Sakusa turns to him, eyebrows furrowed in that way that Atsumu knows without seeing under the mask is puzzled. He shrugs and puts his bag down on his own bed. “Just figured I’d ask, ‘cause you’ll probably wanna shower before me, right?”

“Oh,” Sakusa says, eyeing the way Atsumu has dumped his bag on the bed while he pulls his own things out to place carefully on the desk in the corner. “Generally in the evening.”

“That’s fine then, I’ll shower in the mornin’,” Atsumu nods, grabbing a few of his things from his luggage to put on the bedside table before kicking the bag to the side. He hears Sakusa snort, looks up in time to see the slight crinkle of his eyes that tells him he’s smiling slightly. “Hey, are ya gonna keep the mask on the whole time in the room? If ya do that’s fine, just curious.” 

Sakusa just stands there for a moment, regarding him before shaking his head. “I won’t, but I’d like to sanitize the room before I take it off.” 

Atsumu just nods again, asks if he’d want help, but when Sakusa just raises an eyebrow at him he laughs. “Didn’t think so but thought I’d offer. ‘M gonna head out for a bit, text me if you need anything.” 

He doesn’t text, and Atsumu doesn’t really expect him to. He doesn’t even intend to be out long, just wants to check in with Hinata and Bokuto and run to the konbini he saw just a block or two away from the hotel. He really hasn’t been gone long by the time he makes it back to his and Sakusa’s room. He stands outside for a moment, knocks quickly before wincing; it’s his room too, he really shouldn’t feel the need. He waits a moment anyway, giving Sakusa ample time to make himself scarce if he needs to, not that he has any idea what he could possibly be needing the warning for. He walks into the room, rolls his eyes at his own ridiculousness when he hears the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Thinks for a moment that even if Sakusa would have appreciated his senselessness he wouldn’t have even heard it, admonishes himself for wishing for Sakusa’s approval. He toes his shoes off, walking over to lie on his bed to wait for Sakusa to be done.

He doesn’t have to wait long, the sound of the shower dissipating. He’s scrolling mindlessly on his phone when the door opens, steam pouring out as Sakusa walks out, wearing just a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. He doesn't mean to stare, he really doesn’t, he’s seen Sakusa fresh from the shower plenty of times after practice. There’s something different about this though, about being in a hotel room and not a sweaty locker room surrounded by other half naked men, something about the way Sakusa’s staring at him too, obviously shocked.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were back. Sorry.”

Atsumu tries for a laugh, the dryness of his throat turning it into a rough chuckle as he quickly turns back to his phone, pretends like he wasn’t about to drool over his teammate, or like he wasn’t imagining tracing the path of the lone water droplet slipping down his neck and chest. “Really, Omi, I even knocked before coming in. ‘S’all right though, nothin’ I haven’t seen before. Won’t watch you change though, if you’re worried.”

He can see Sakusa shrug out of his peripherals where he’s walking back to his own bed, his own belongings. “I just would have dressed in the bathroom if I’d heard you come back.” 

Atsumu hums, tries to make it sound convincingly uninterested as he desperately tries to keep his focus on his phone. “Bokkun and Shouyou were plannin’ on goin’ to an izakaya they saw on the bus here if ya wanted to come with.” 

“Sure.”

“Cool, I’ll uh… tell ‘em we’ll meet them downstairs in 15?” 

Sakusa agrees, and he shoots a quick text to Shouyou letting him know before staring at his phone and desperately trying to keep his thoughts from shifting to unsafe territories as the minutes pass by. His fingers itch for the notebook he left at home, because he _knew_ he was rooming with Sakusa and couldn’t handle the embarrassment of being caught with it. But now, he sits on his bed, fingers fumbling to open up a note on his phone to frantically type out, _“big problem: may have a crush on omi????”_

The rest of the trip is fine. As fine as it can be when Atsumu is trying not to think too hard about how he may or may not be into Sakusa, meaning he thinks about it obsessively when he’s not on the court. Their games go well though, he can focus on those fully. He’s glad that it’s the last point of the set when he gets first touch and Sakusa has to make an emergency set. He trusts that Sakusa can handle it, but he sets it to _him_ and he yells _Atsumu_ instead of Miya, and Atsumu spends the entire time between sets cooling down from _that_ instead of from the set itself. It’s bad for his health is what it is. And it makes his obsessive post-match thinking about what may or may not be a stupid fucking crush on Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi go haywire when he realizes that _yes,_ he does. He spends the rest of the trip trying to make his attempts at avoiding Sakusa when possible seem like courtesy instead of fear of being found out. As soon as they’re off the team bus, getting ready to head home, he texts Osamu that he’s visiting the next day.

It wasn’t like he’d spent this whole time completely unaware of how fucking weird his whole thing had been. It had started out fine enough, with innocent intentions, and it wasn’t like he was _trying_ to be weird. He blames Osamu for planting the idea in his head in the first place. He wasn’t tracking anything creepy anyway, not like he had Sakusa’s routines written down, just the things that concerned Atsumu. He feels like a schoolgirl, writing his crush’s name down in his notebook over and over again. On a whim he finds a blank page near the end of the notebook, doodling little hearts with _SK + MA_ written in them, writing down their names trading surnames to see what looked better. He feels stupid doing it, decides to ignore how his heart jumped when he wrote down _Miya Kiyoomi_. He thinks about ripping the page out, he’d only even made it on a whim as a stupid joke to mock himself, but he decides to keep it there as a reminder of how absolutely absurd he was being. He didn’t even check the notebook very often, just wrote things down when they happened and rarely bothered to look back. He didn’t really need to, everything written in the notebook had already been engraved in his mind already anyway.

“Look, ‘Samu,” he grits out, already feeling the beginnings of a headache forming as he tightens his grip on his mug. “I wouldn’t be here, asking for _your_ advice if I weren’t desperate.”

He’d driven all the way out to see his brother, had been here an hour, and he already regretted coming. When Osamu had opened the door to let him in, it was obvious he was ready for another complaint session. They made small talk, Osamu telling him he’d watched the away games on TV, told him his spike had sucked and was only saved because Sakusa made a good set. When Atsumu didn’t try to throttle him for the comment, his attitude shifted, and when Atsumu told him he’d come for advice, his brother had just turned smug and _annoying_.

He smirks lazily at him now, sitting across the table from him with his chin resting in his hand. “You always ask for my advice.”

“When I’m desperate.”

“Which ya always are.”

They stare at each other in tense silence for a moment, Atsumu’s eyes narrowed in irritation, Osamu’s narrowed in amusement. Atsumu sighs, looking away first. “Look. I have a problem.

“Clearly.”

“Would ya shut up and let me finish?” Atsumu snaps. His brother barely reacts, used to his outbursts by now, and it does nothing to ease the agitation in his gut. “I have a problem. There’s this guy I recently realized I might be into, but he’s not the sort of person I can just say that to or ask out, so—”

“Well there’s your problem.” 

“Yes, ‘Samu, that is my problem, which I just explained to you, _so—”_

“No, your _problem_ , ‘Tsumu, is that you’ve already decided that you can’t just talk to people about things. Which you can.” Osamu blinks lazily at him, as if he really believes Atsumu would ask him for help if it was that cut and dry. He’s not a _child_ , he’s capable of communicating, but this is _different_.

“I can’t,” He says, shaking his head when Osamu rolls his eyes. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Does he have a boyfriend?”

Atsumu pauses, eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “Not that I know of, but I mean… me not knowin’ for sure kinda just further illustrates how I can’t just ask him—”

“‘Cause yer a coward.”

“‘Cause he doesn’t communicate _either_ , ‘Samu, please hear me out,” Atsumu sighs, defeated. He knew he shouldn’t have come here, his stupid asshole brother and his shitty advice is the reason he’s in this mess to begin with. “I can’t really explain why—”

“Because ya refuse to communicate.” 

“Because he’s fucking Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘Samu!” Atsumu nearly yells, Osamu’s smug grin the last straw, pushing him and his frustrations past the tipping point.

Osamu blinks at him again, the pair absolutely silent as they stare at each other once more. The silence stretches for what feels like ages.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well yer fucked then.” 

“‘ _S_ _amuuuu!”_ Atsumu whines, head banging down onto the table, rattling his cup hard enough that coffee sloshes up the side, splattering onto the table. Atsumu thinks there might be some in his hair but he can’t seem to care right now, knows he will later. 

“Y’know, you’ve done a lot of stupid shit but this one’s definitely the worst.” 

Atsumu lifts his head from the table to gape, feels himself get even more frustrated by the blase look on his brother’s face. “You think I _wanted_ this? That I did this on _purpose?_ Maybe you’re crazier than I am.” 

“No fuckin’ way I am. You have a crush on the guy you complained about for months.” 

Atsumu feels like ripping out his hair, grips it hard enough that if he’s not careful he might. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Yer so annoying when you whine.”

“Then _help me!”_

“I mean, your best bet is still telling him. Either he’ll reciprocate or it’ll be so awkward you give up on your crush on him,” Osamu says, nodding to himself like he genuinely believes he’s helped at all.

Atsumu just mumbles _“Bastard”_ into the wood of the table, realizing just how futile asking his brother for help with anything is as he continues to talk.

He decidedly does not tell Sakusa. He figures that, actually, his best bet is to pretend he doesn’t have a stupid crush and then it’ll go away on it’s own. He doesn’t think about how any time Sakusa touches him in any way it leaves a tingle in its wake, the feeling of Sakusa’s hands on him remaining for hours whether it’s from a light brush of their hands when he holds out a ball to him, the steady pressure on his shoulder when they have partnered stretches, the almost there presence at his back when Sakusa squeezes past him in the hallway. He doesn’t acknowledge how his heart flips at the soft and appreciative look Sakusa gives him when he intervenes and accepts fan gifts on his behalf. He absolutely ignores how _good_ Sakusa looks mid-practice, when he’s in the zone and has worked up a sweat, spiking ball after ball that Atsumu sets for him.

When he can’t find the notebook before practice, he doesn’t think too much of it at first. Figures he probably left it on his desk or something; it isn’t like he brings it to practice all the time. He doesn’t think about it throughout the entirety of practice, too focused on what he’s doing. He even snaps at Sakusa more than once when he hesitates a bit longer than he normally does to hit his set. He thinks about Osamu’s voice ringing in his head about how people have off-days, but doesn’t bother pulling his punches with him anyway. He’s gotten used to Sakusa’s thought process before a spike, it _bothers_ him, but he understands it’s not him doubting the sets, just him thinking it through. This however, is off, and he’s off his game and it’s _bothering_ Atsumu, because it always does when he’s on his game and his teammates aren’t. It’s only made worse when Sakusa barely reacts to his chiding, tells him it’s fine and normal, but Atsumu has paid enough attention to know it’s _not_. 

Not that it really changes anything. They get through practice regardless.

He thinks it’s weird when Sakusa isn’t the first to leave the locker room, but there isn’t anything to really do or say about it. When he’s still hanging around after Atsumu showers, fully dressed with his mask on, sitting on a bench near his and Atsumu’s lockers, playing on his phone, he scowls but says nothing. When he purposely slows his getting ready, and Sakusa still sits there, waiting, as their teammates file out of the locker room one by one, he feels something sink in his gut. He considers asking why he’s waiting, considers cracking some stupid joke, but when he opens his mouth the words stay caught in his throat. He finishes getting his stuff together, but doesn't bother closing his locker until the room is empty save for him and Sakusa, doesn’t even turn around until he hears Sakusa’s voice.

“You should consider being less careless with your belongings, Miya.”

His blood turns to ice, his breath caught in his lungs as he slowly turns around to see Sakusa sitting on the bench, flipping through a black notebook shaped like a cat. “Omi-kun—”

“It’s good that I’m the one who found this,” He says, still not looking up at him, “It was lying outside your locker this morning. If Bokuto or Hinata had found it before me, I’m sure the whole team would be aware of its contents by now.”

Atsumu clears his throat, licks his dry lips as he looks around the locker room; either for an escape, or to ensure no one else is around he’s not sure.

“I dunno, I don’t think either of them would be rude enough to read through someone else’s notebook y’know?” He tries to keep his breathing calm as Sakusa stands, “Plus, Shouyou knows it’s mine, so he wouldn’t even need to look for a name.”

“This is really, and I mean _really_ fucking weird, you know?” 

Atsumu huffs, refuses to meet Sakusa’s eyes. “Well, you’re a weird fuckin’ guy, okay?” He rubs the back of his neck, hears the flip of papers from Sakusa’s direction and winces. “Didja uh… read all of it?” Sakusa just hums non committedly, and Atsumu feels his face burn, his stomach turn. He takes a steadying breath. “Well, what do you think? Miya Kiyoomi or Sakusa Atsumu?”

“What?”

“I’m kidding,” and then, more seriously, “I’m kidding.” When Sakusa just blinks at him, Atsumu sighs harshly, rubbing a rough hand across his face. “Sorry, I know you hate my jokes. Pretty sure that’s on the first list.” 

He hears Sakusa snort, watches him flip to the first page. “You know, this isn’t all entirely accurate. For example, Miya Atsumu being first on the list of things I hate is wrong. A bunch of other things were scribbled out and moved to _tolerates_ too so I know you edit these lists. Also, I _do_ hate being called Omi.”

“No you don’t,” Atsumu is quick to respond, feels something akin to relief when he sees the telltale signs of Sakusa grinning at him from under the mask like he thinks Atsumu can’t tell. “I left my name up there for moments such as these, anyway.” 

Sakusa rolls his eyes, snapping the notebook shut. “I don’t hate you Miya, even if you’re a weird stalker.”

“Hey! Stalking implies I was followin’ you around and shit. Everything in there is from personal experience with yer impossible ass,” he sniffs defensively, eyeing the notebook still held neatly in Sakusa’s hands. “Besides, it was my brother’s idea.”

“What?”

He shrugs, finally turning to face Sakusa properly again. “He said if I couldn’t keep up with all your quirks and specifications I should just… write it down, ‘n’ it became a habit.”

“Well,” Sakusa says after a moment, “Your brother has some sound advice.”

Atsumu gapes, staring at the man in front of him. “You _just_ called me a weird stalker, but once ya hear it’s _Samu’s_ idea it’s fine?”

“I think his idea was fine,” Sakusa says, waving the notebook out in front of him, “You made it weird.” 

Atsumu makes to grab the notebook, but Sakusa pulls it back, keeping it just out of Atsumu’s reach unless he chooses to get closer. He huffs. “Look, I’m _aware_ okay, it’s just a habit now. Ya basically read my diary and then told me I was weird, as if I don’t know that.”

Sakusa snorts, the mask crinkling as his mouth moves beneath it. “I just think keeping track of every time I let you within arms length is excessive.” 

“Is it?” Atsumu asks, taking a step closer and eyeing the notebook carefully, “‘Cause I dunno how ya read this stupid thing but it took a lotta work to get this far. Had to keep track _somehow_ ‘cause it wasn’t like ya were very open about not actively disliking me.” 

He’s not watching Sakusa’s face, only hears the mask shift as his face twists. “I… appreciate the things you have done and the efforts you have apparently went to on my behalf, though the end goal I’m still unclear on.” 

Atsumu just shrugs. “I mean, the goal originally was just ta get you to stop yelling at me over every little thing, and then it was so that maybe one day in the far, far, _far_ future you’d be willing to potentially admit that we’re friends. That was all it was, I know it uh… looks worse but that was the goal.”

“When you say ‘looks worse’ do you mean the parts where you wrote my name with hearts or the parts where you wrote about how hot I am?” Atsumu cringes, hard. “I do think we’re friends, Miya.” 

Atsumu purses his lips, looks up at Sakusa’s face. He hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to him, glances at the notebook still held out away from them. “Mind giving that back so I can write this momentous occasion down?” 

Sakusa gives him a dry look over the paper of his mask. “Are you serious?”

Atsumu just gives him a grin, arm shooting out to grab the notebook out of his hands. “Nah, but I do need this back. Can’t have ya showin’ everyone else how embarrassing I am.” 

“Why a cat?”

Atsumu stops in the middle of flipping through the pages, closes it and states at the cover. “I sent a pic of it to Shouyou ‘cause I thought it’d remind him of Kageyama but he said it kinda reminded him of you too so I bought it.” 

“That—” Sakusa stops, doesn’t finish his thought, and when Atsumu looks up at him he’s standing still, blinking at him, and if Atsumu didn’t know any better he’d say what little he can see of his cheeks are tinged red.

“Stupid? Childish? Some other big word ya wanna use to insult me?” Atsumu supplies, slipping the notebook into the empty pocket in his duffle it usually resides in. 

Sakusa just shakes his head. “And you called me impossible to understand.” 

“Wh—hey what’s that supposed to mean Omi?” But Sakusa’s already started walking away, waving as he tells Atsumu he’ll see him tomorrow.

He doesn’t write anything down, thoroughly embarrassed over the whole ordeal and looking at the notebook only serves to remind him of it. He doesn’t really need to anyway, hasn’t needed to in some time. He thinks about it, when Sakusa starts thanking him for his efforts more often, things he’d been doing for months now anyway without a second thought suddenly being acknowledged, but decides against it in the end. A small part of him thinks it might be pity; Sakusa feeling bad for the efforts Atsumu had gone to unnecessarily, maybe hoping that in thanking him for things he’ll stop being a freak. He knows that’s not really the case, doesn’t think Sakusa is cruel like that. He comforts himself with the fact that if Sakusa was truly uncomfortable he’d just say something. 

At some point he realizes that he’s stopped making progress on his own, has stopped pushing things, falling back into the safety of what he knows is okay, not pushing his luck for anymore than he’s certain he can get from Sakusa. It’s not something he realizes immediately, but when Sakusa starts initiating conversation first, requests Atsumu’s help with stretches, he realizes that not only has he been playing it safe, but that _Sakusa_ realizes it too. It’s frustrating, how easily Atsumu’s been turned around, how suddenly stifled he feels with things that came easily before. He knows he fucked up, shouldn’t have been so careless, probably shouldn’t have been so fucking _weird_ in the first place, but the frustration comes from how easily Sakusa’s navigated these developments compared to him.

When he slips up too far, calls him _Sakusa_ instead of Omi in the locker room, you can hear a pin drop. Bokuto stops his excited chatter and blinks at him, even Meian looks confused. He tries to ignore how for a split second it looked like Sakusa was _hurt,_ but it’s gone so quickly it must’ve been his imagination.

“What?” He laughs nervously, shoves his shaking hands into his locker like he has to grab something as he refuses to look anyone in the eye, “That’s his _name_ y’know.”

No one says anything about it, and no one brings it up as he hurries out of the locker room before anyone even has the chance to. 

“Atsumu.”

He winces, freezes in place in the middle of the parking lot, doesn’t bother turning around. “Y’know, you only ever call me by my given name when you’re _really_ mad at me, I think I wrote that one down somewhere.”

He hears a sigh and the soft tapping of Sakusa’s shoes on the pavement approaching him. He still doesn’t turn to look, just grips the strap of his bag harder. “This has to stop.”

Atsumu squints into the space in front of him, wracking his brain for what _this_ could be. Probably him bringing up the stupid notebook again. He should really acknowledge how much Sakusa hates his jokes before making them more often. “Sorry, my bad man.”

There’s another sigh, this one much closer and more exasperated as Sakusa comes into view. He’s not wearing a mask, like he’d chased after Atsumu before he had the chance to put one on. “ _That_ is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Uh,” Atsumu replies, and he wants to slap himself, settling for shifting his grip again. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this Omi-Omi, can it wait?”

“No.” 

He says it like there’s no room for argument, and Atsumu finds himself laughing nervously as he glances around the parking lot, refuses to look at Sakusa. “Well, uh… do we have to do this right _here_ then?”

“Where would you rather we do this then, Miya?” Sakusa sounds tired, and Atsumu bites his lip and looks away, knows he’s to blame for it. “Would you prefer to talk in my car?”

Atsumu grits his teeth. He _wouldn’t_ actually, thinks being in close quarters is the _worst_ idea right now, but anything beats the middle of the parking lot that their teammates will be walking into shortly. “Alright.”

He follows Sakusa to his car, unceremoniously throws his duffel bag in the backseat next to Sakusa’s and slides into the passenger’s seat. He’s been in his car before, has bummed the occasional ride on days he took the train to practice and didn’t feel like taking it back, but it feels far more stifling than he remembers. He briefly considers rolling down a window for air, but decides he’d really rather not have anyone overhear what he’s sure is going to be the worst conversation of his life. Even worse than the time his Ma had found his dirty magazines.

When Sakusa carefully pulls on his leather driving gloves, Atsumu is briefly distracted, watching the way the worn leather slides easily over long fingers, before the car is started and Sakusa is backing out of his parking space. “Uh, Omi-kun? Thought we were just gonna talk in here?”

“You took the train to practice today, I’ll give you a ride.”

Atsumu laughs nervously, wincing at how panic creeps into his voice. “Y’know, I appreciate the thought, but it’s really not necessary, I’d hate to put you out.”

“That’s the problem, Miya, you always think you’re putting me out.” 

“Huh?” Sakusa is silent for a moment, eyes determinedly on the road, the only sound in the car the irritated tapping of his finger against the steering wheel. Atsumu stares at him openly, confused about the turn of events, about how Sakusa has apparently connected these two conversations with a logical jump he surely can’t think Atsumu follows. 

“When I found your notebook, I thought it was weird, because it is. Your behaviour has always been _weird_ , and I don’t understand you.” When Atsumu opens his mouth to respond, offended at the implication that _he’s_ the one who’s difficult to understand, Sakusa holds his hand up to shut him up. “ _But_ , it was… nice, in a way. A horrible conception of a genuinely kind attempt, and for some stupid reason I _appreciated_ the effort you put in. I know I can be—”

“A hardass?”

“ _Difficult._ ” Atsumu gives a weak grin at the sharp look Sakusa gives him, leaning back in his seat to listen. “I know I can be difficult. You’re not the first person to tell me so, but you’re one of few who made an effort to accommodate it. I meant it, when I told you we were friends but now you’re—you’re back to tiptoeing around me and I don’t _like it.”_

They’ve reached a red light, and Sakusa turns to look at him, face fully open and _vulnerable_ for the first time that Atsumu remembers, and they just stare at each other, not saying anything. Atsumu finds it hard to breathe, finds himself caught and drowning in Sakusa’s black eyes, and he wishes he could say something here, but doesn’t know what. And then there’s a horn behind them, the light having already turned green, and Sakusa’s swearing under his breath as he quickly adjusts and continues driving. Atsumu swallows around the lump in his throat, lifts his arm to flip the driver behind them off in the rearview mirror, grins as Sakusa admonishes him for it. 

“Y’know, Omi,” he starts quietly, “I think it’s really funny that you think it’s weirder for me to be callin’ you _Sakusa_ than it is that I kept a stupid little diary of every time you let me within three feet of you, y’know, considerin’ you hate when I call you Omi.”

Sakusa huffs, shakes his head, but Atsumu can see the beginnings of a small smile playing on his lips. “I _do_ hate it when you call me Omi—”

“You don’t.”

“—And I still think it’s weird when you don’t use it. These things aren’t mutually exclusive, Miya.”

Atsumu hums, quietly, smiling fondly at his friend where he can’t see. “‘M sorry, for makin’ things weird. Twice now, in fact.” 

Another sigh. “I don’t need an apology Miya, just…”

“Stop being weird?”

“Stop being weird,” Sakusa agrees. They’re quiet for a while, the sounds of traffic surrounding them as Atsumu turns to look out the window. “Hey, Miya?” He hums in response. “For the record, purely from an aesthetic point of view, and not a personal one, Miya Kiyoomi sounds better.”

Atsumu clicks his tongue, nodding sagely as he continues to watch the cars pass by. “I agree wholeheartedly.” Their silences aren’t awkward, and Atsumu basks in the quiet of the drive home. He thinks about where he and Sakusa started, arguing at every turn, how angry he’d been for months, how stupid he’d been. When Sakusa pulls up to his building, he doesn’t move to get out of the car immediately. “Hey, Omi?” It’s Sakusa’s turn to hum, and Atsumu pulls himself away from the window to face him, unsurprised to see Sakusa’s careful eyes already on him. “Wanna go out sometime?”

“Like, on a _date_?” When Atsumu grins and waggles his eyebrows, Sakusa rolls his eyes fondly, and Atsumu breaks, doubling over in laughter, even as the seat belt cuts into his throat. 

He can hear Sakusa huff, the creak of his leather gloves on the steering wheel, and Atsumu smiles, full, and genuine when he sits back up. “Yeah, like on a date.”

Sakusa sits for a moment, pretending like he’s seriously contemplating Atsumu’s offer when the setter can tell he’s already made up his mind. “Fine. I suppose.”

Atsumu grins, feeling lighter than he has in ages, watches Sakusa’s smile grow to match his own and then immediately fall when he says, “I can’t wait to write this in my notebook.”

Sakusa sighs heavily. “I think you should burn it.”

“But _Omi-kun,_ how will I remember you like umeboshi without it?” He bats his eyelashes at him, snickering when all he gets in return is a shake of his head.

“I’m sure you’ll manage. Now get out of my car.” 

Atsumu laughs, pulling the door open and stepping out. He grabs his duffel off the back seat, rests a hand on the doorframe as he leans back down, “I’ll text you about our date, yeah?” 

He only closes the door when Sakusa grumbles out something that sounds like a _yes_ with a blush on his cheeks, all but skipping all the way up to his apartment. And if he rummages around to find his stupid notebook just to scribble out his own name and move it to a brand new list of _likes,_ he supposes he’ll tell Omi later just to bother him.


End file.
